


The Kids Are All Right

by callmelyss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Established Relationship, Hux Stays, Kylo Is So Thirsty, M/M, Post-TLJ, Redemption Is for Quitters, The Author Regrets Everything, Unhealthy Relationships, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/pseuds/callmelyss
Summary: No, Hux must be keeping his distance, must be angrier than Kylo thought, despite his businesslike demeanor in the medbay and ruthless efficiency in the name of the Order—and ostensibly its new leader—since then.What cements it is Hux’s staff. Every time he shows up to speak to him, he’s rebuffed.





	The Kids Are All Right

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note about the rating. There's no actual sex in the present-action of the story. Kylo contemplates it at length, though.

Kylo doesn’t notice at first.

No, at first, there’s the business of the aftermath—from Crait, the destruction of the _Supremacy_ and far too much of the fleet, damn the Resistance, and Snoke’s death. He barely sees Hux in those initial frenzied days when they return to the _Finalizer_ , the two of them doing everything they can to consolidate power and send the right message to their own people and the galaxy. _Yes, the Order is as powerful, as merciless, as ever. Do not trifle with us. Do not even dream it_. _We will bring our full might and fury to bear on any and all who defy us_.

There are insurrections to suppress. A few public executions. Personnel to reassign. Countless condolence messages to write, funeral speeches to make. Hux does most of that; he’s better at it. Kylo is better at crushing insurgents.

They spoke, briefly, in the medbay just after Crait. Hux was sitting shirtless on a cot while a droid assessed his injuries. He had dismissed the staff, so no one saw Kylo’s frenzied pacing. Or the bruises.

He knew better than to grab Hux’s hand; he’d get slapped away for his troubles. Deserved that, certainly. Instead, he hovered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t—”

Untrue to say he didn’t mean it. He had, in the moment, both in the throne room and on Crait. It was afterward that he regretted it, when his mind cleared, when the light retreated and the darkness embraced him with its calm cruelty and he was only Kylo again, not fighting for control, not struggling against his own ghost, not questioning everything he was.

Hux shook his head. “Never mind that. We have an Empire to keep together, provided that’s what you want to do. Supreme Leader.” 

Is it over? he meant. Are you with us? With me?

“Yes,” Kylo breathed. Then, more firmly: “Yes, that’s what I want, General. Of course.”

 _It’s over_ , he thought at Hux. _It won’t happen again_ , _I swear_.

He shook his head again. _Careful, Ren_. _Don’t make promises you can’t keep._

_Snoke—_

_It doesn't matter._

“Excellent. Let’s get to work,” Hux said aloud. He shrugged back into his uniform shirt before the droid could finish.

And so they had.

—

But that was more than a week ago, and now that Kylo’s returned to the _Finalizer_ for an extended time, he feels Hux’s absence. Acutely. He’s caught a few glimpses of him on the bridge, where he holds dominion as ever. But they haven’t spoken, haven’t so much as exchanged messages over the comm. And, true, it’s probably too soon to expect Hux back in his bed—not that either of them have had the time—but he doesn’t often avoid his quarters altogether, even when they’re having one of their nastier spats, even the ones before Starkiller.

No, Hux must be keeping his distance, must be angrier than Kylo thought, despite his businesslike demeanor in the medbay and ruthless efficiency in the name of the Order—and ostensibly its new leader—since then.

What cements it is Hux’s staff. Every time he shows up to speak to him, he’s rebuffed. “The General is in a meeting with the Admiralty for the afternoon,” one of them is chirping at him now. He doesn’t know this lieutenant, a diminutive blonde girl whose tag reads _Connors_. No surprise there. The _Finalizer_ is teeming with extra officers, survivors from the destroyed ships waiting for their new assignments and replacement staff for the many, many casualties over the last month.

It doesn’t matter. He has never been very good at remembering their names. Hux knows them all, of course.

 _What ever happened to Mitaka?_ Kylo almost wants to ask the annoying blonde lieutenant. At least Mitaka was afraid of him. This one doesn’t seem to be.

When he comes back the next day, a different officer, a tall, olive-skinned man who apparently goes by Yancey, tells him that Hux is on a conference call with the alliance of colonial governors loyal to the Order.

On the third day, a third (Ross) insists that Hux isn’t even onboard. He’s inspecting salvage operations on the _Supremacy_.

Kylo should be able to confirm this with the Force, but it’s been hard for him to find people lately; all the new signatures aboard the ship muddle his senses. The _Finalizer_ used to be a pleasant homogeny from which he could pluck Hux’s location without thinking. Now it’s a hive of anxious bees, thrumming uncomfortably in his thoughts. And there’s the hangover, too, from Skywalker and the girl both. Being close to them. He’ll need some time to recover.

Normally, he would seek out Hux and alleviate his confusion via rough fucking, Hux on his hands and knees, spewing vitriol and praise in equal measure, while Kylo hammers into him from behind. Clear both their heads that way.

Instead, he stalks off the bridge and goes straight to the combat simulator. Maybe if he destroys enough battle droids, that will get him an audience, or at least a terse memo about departmental waste.

—

It doesn’t. The next morning, he returns to the bridge, unsurprised to find Hux isn’t there. Does someone warn him when he approaches? Does he duck just out of sight, sneering at Kylo? The idea sends something molten and pulsating into his stomach. His hand goes to his lightsaber, and more than a few of the bridge crew flinch, which is satisfying in its own way.

But no. He just needs to talk to Hux. To explain. Apologize again, if necessary. Let Hux yell at him. He likes to yell at him. Happily, the yelling often turns into angry sex—of the biting, clawing, bent over the desk variety—and so Kylo tolerates it more than he would otherwise. Would let Hux step on him now if he wanted.

“I’d like to…make an appointment. With the General,” he tells her. The blonde lieutenant again. Connors.

She blinks. Not expecting this, no doubt. He feels a small surge of triumph.

“Of course, sir,” she says, recovering, and pulls out her datapad. “Per the schedule, the General has a free block of time in…three weeks.”

To her credit, she doesn’t give any ground when he advances on her and snatches the datapad out of her hands. “ _Three weeks?_ ” he growls.

“Yes, sir. The General’s schedule is quite full at the moment.”

“I’m _the Supreme Leader,”_ Kylo all but roars. “Fucking _make_ time.”

If he chose, he could _easily_ identify the new _Finalizer_ crew vs. the veterans based on who turns to stare and who looks studiously at their screens as if absolutely nothing of interest is happening.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Connors says. Standing very straight, staring dead ahead. Not quivering, jelly-like, as Mitaka used to, much as he wishes she would. “I’m not permitted to cancel meetings.”

Everything goes very still. Even the machines seem quiet. “ _Fine_ ,” Kylo hisses. Throws the datapad onto the floor. The casing cracks down the middle.

It’s all he can do not to stomp off the bridge.

—

That night, he tries messaging Hux. First, he casually asks for a meeting.

No response.

He points out they have business to discuss, which happens to be true.

No response.

He asks Hux what he can do to make it convenient—easier—for them to talk.

No response.

He suggests maybe they should start designing a new superweapon. That should get his interest, surely. Hux loves nothing better than superweapons.

No response.

He apologizes, again. Even though he knows Hux hates using official channels for personal matters.

Nothing.

If the comm wasn’t his best chance at hearing from Hux, Kylo would destroy it without a thought. As it is, he falls asleep with his cheek on the screen.

—

He’s been avoiding Hux’s quarters, but at the end of the fifth day, he caves and goes early during the General’s usual rest hours. He won’t barge in, much as he wishes to; he’ll wait. At least he’ll know where Hux _is._ His head has been throbbing for days. Kylo’s not sure he can stand being berated just now, but he has to risk it. He requests entry.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Nothing. He can’t sense anything either.

He enters his own access code, if only to see if it still works. (If it doesn’t, he’ll go. Won’t cheat and use the Force.) He tries not to feel too surprised when it does. Steps cautiously into Hux’s front room, which is spotless as always. “Hello? Hux?”

No answer.

Kylo hesitates before entering the bedroom. The truth is: he wants to too much. Wants to see Hux stretched out on those black sheets, the pale, freckled expanse of his back—

But the bed is empty, hasn’t been touched for days by the look of it. So’s the ‘fresher. Hux isn’t here. Despite his headache, Kylo can tell he isn’t in the officer’s mess. Or in the gym. Isn’t on the bridge.

He must be on the ship. Everything would have fallen apart by now if he wasn’t. But.

“What the fuck,” Kylo asks the empty room.

—

The lieutenants, Kylo’s decided, are the answer. He’s been watching their comings and goings, the strange changing of the guard. They take turns running errands. Some of them during off-hours. This, Kylo decides, is the best way to catch them and get some answers.

Fitting that it’s the new girl, Connors, he ends up tracking. She’s still on duty, the evening shift, but she leaves the bridge, goes to the officers’ mess and emerges carrying a tea service, then moves at a rapid clip towards the junior officers’ block. Kylo keeps well behind her, following her through the corridors like a distant shadow.

She comes to a halt in front of one of the many nondescript doors. Buzzes for entry. Waits.

This close, it’s easy to sense Hux is inside. Kylo never would have thought to look for him here, but here he is.

“ _Hey_ ,” Connors shouts when he shoves past her—upending the tea—and into the quarters. “You can’t—“

She’s hard on his heels when he enters the room, the two of them almost tangling up and they sort of tumble through the doorway together and Hux—

Hux is emerging from the refresher in his long black robe and toweling his hair. He freezes when he sees he has company. “Hello, Ren,” he says. Conversational, if confused. Not looking displeased to see him, at least. Looking better, in fact, than he has in a while. Still tired around the eyes, but less exhausted. Flushed from the shower. His gaze flicks to Connors. “Er, lieutenant—“

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she blurts. “I was just coming with your tea and the Supreme Leader—“

“ _The Supreme Leader wants to know just what the fuck is going on_ ,” Kylo shouts.

Hux frowns at him. “What—“

 _Are you okay?_ he’s thinking at Kylo. _You look_ deranged, _Ren_.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for _days_. Where the hell have you been, Hux?”

“Working, same as you,” Hux says, as if this should be obvious. “Here and on what remains of the _Supremacy._ Why, what’s happened? Has there been another uprising?”

“No, but—“

“Did you figure out where the Resistance is?”

“ _No_.”

“Then—“

“You _disappeared_ ,” Kylo snaps. “You weren’t in your quarters.”

“There was some sort of pest problem. They’re fixing it,” Hux says. “I thought you knew.”

_If you couldn’t find me, why not just use the Force?_

_It’s been…difficult lately_. _Interference_.

_Ah. No wonder you’re upset._

“Your staff insists you’ve been in nonstop meetings—“

“I have been. We’re sort of in a crisis, remember. And you hate meetings. I thought I would spare you them. And them you.” Too patient, like he’s talking to a child. Even more irritating that it’s hard to be upset with him when he looks like this, hair dark and soft and dripping around his ears, the narrow V of his chest revealed by the robe, the beaded water that makes his neck look…lickable. More so than usual.

“And what about all the messages I sent you?” Kylo demands. Trying to cling to his anger. 

 _I thought you were_ avoiding _me_.

 _Since when do I_ avoid _you instead of just telling you to fuck off? Have we met?_

“My datapad had to undergo emergency maintenance,” Hux explains.“They’re retrofitting it for…” He stops, staring at Lieutenant Connors, who’s been standing there frozen, an increasingly guilty expression on her face. He looks at her and then at Kylo, and back again. Understanding dawns in his pale eyes. “Oh. _Oh._ I see.” Connors flinches.

 _What_ , Kylo wants to snap, but then something even more disturbing happens.

Hux starts _laughing_.

It’s not the clipped, humorless bark the _Finalizer_ bridge crew is so accustomed to hearing. Not the mad cackle that escapes during the heat of a particularly good dogfight. Not the snort of genuine amusement Kylo earns on occasion. Not the derisive snicker he prefers to avoid. Certainly not the warm chuckle that makes an appearance solely in their bed, usually in the dark and under the covers and only when Hux’s mood is especially good.

No, this laughter shakes his entire thin frame, doubles him over so that he has to brace his hands on his thighs. It’s wild and unrestrained and… _delighted_. It lasts a solid minute at least, and Kylo forgets his irritation with Connors long enough to exchange a look of abject horror with her. _What the fuck_.

When Hux straightens, fighting for air and wiping excess moisture from his eyes, he says, “Oh, that’s good. Very good.” He turns to Connors. “Lieutenant, how many of you are in on this little conspiracy?”

“Conspiracy?” Kylo snarls, taking a step to interpose himself between the General and the lieutenant, but finds himself dismissed with one waved hand. His anger flares again. Hux shakes his head. 

 _It’s fine, Ren. It’s nothing,_ he’s thinking quite clearly in his direction. Over-enunciating his thoughts almost. _Only a misunderstanding_. _They didn’t know—how could they?_

 _Know_ what.

“Lieutenant?” Hux prompts.

Connors gulps audibly. “Seven, sir. Eight if you count Mitaka, but he’s assisting with the salvage operation on the _Supremacy_ at the moment, as you know, sir. We…meant well, sir.”

“Gather your comrades for a meeting at 1700 in conference room E-5. I’ll meet you there after I’ve dressed.” He puts a placating hand on Connors’ shoulder. “It’s okay, lieutenant. I’m not angry.” This familiar gesture should not set Kylo’s teeth on edge but it does. It would be so, so, so easy to choke her.

 _It’s sort of sweet,_ Hux is musing as the red-faced lieutenant makes a hasty retreat. _If_ incredibly _naive. Do we need to adjust for that, I wonder._

“Adjust for what? What’s sweet?” Kylo snarls, still thinking of his hand on Connors' shoulder. 

Hux rolls his eyes at him. “Oh, calm down, Ren, she’s all of nineteen years old and rather lacks the proper equipment, as you’re damn well aware.” _What do you take me for?_

“What’s going on, Hux.”

“Nothing that need concern you, Supreme Leader.” His voice goes all oil in that way Kylo hates. He’s starting to loathe his new title. “Just a little internal matter for me to address. I’ll see you afterward.”

 _They were_ worried _,_ Hux emphasizes.

_About you? Why?_

He just looks at Kylo, expectant, until the realization dawns.

He isn’t proud of how quickly he leaves that room, ignoring Hux’s exasperated _Ren. Ren._ Kylo.

—

True to his word, Hux shows up at Kylo’s quarters about an hour later. It’s a relief to sense him coming down the corridor, that flare of orange he understands as _the General_ and _Hux_ and, although he’s never said it out loud, _Armitage_. Kylo can feel him pause before entering his access code; he knows without checking that Hux is wondering if it will still work. But of course it does.

Kylo’s waiting on the couch in his front room with a bottle of good Nabooian red. He walked the ship for the better part of the hour Hux was occupied, the expression on his face clearing more than one corridor of personnel. An unfortunate stormtrooper who encountered him around the corner had to be taken to medical for a panic attack.

They might miss the mask more than he does.

“I’ve reassured the children that I’m under no imminent threat from the new Supreme Leader,” Hux tells him while he removes his coat, boots, and hat. “At least, no more so than usual. They’ve promised to stop thwarting you at every turn.”

 _Their methods were certainly creative_ , _you must admit_. _Emergency maintenance, ha._

“I’m glad you find gross insubordination so entertaining,” Kylo grumbles. 

“Come on.” He settles at the opposite end of the couch and stretches his long legs across it with a sigh. It’s a calculated move. Keeping his distance, just a bit, but staying in reach. “It was a little funny.”

Kylo doesn’t answer, instead pulls Hux’s feet into his lap. He doesn’t know why he likes them—it’s not a fetish like the General thinks. He circles one bony ankle with his thumb instead of answering. 

“I suppose I should be impressed you didn’t take my ship apart.”

“I’m…trying.”

He could lean over Hux’s feet to pour the wine, but he does it with the Force instead, reveling, as ever, in Hux’s curiosity and amusement. It’s pure showing off to float the glass to him afterward, but Kylo _is_ a showoff and they both know it. 

They sit quietly for a long moment then, Hux drinking and Kylo mindlessly touching him, the parts he can get his hands on, skimming his palm up one lean calf and back down, dipping his fingers under the cuff of his pants when he needs skin.

“It was bad this time, hm,” Hux says finally. The call to the light, he means. Kylo tearing in two, going more than a little mad with it.

“Yeah, it was,” he agrees. Says again, “I’m sorry.” 

Hux waves him off. He is well acquainted with these spells at this point—and the aftermath. They’ve been a part of Kylo as long as they’ve known each other, of course. He would probably say he knew what he was getting into five years ago, if asked. 

Not that that means. 

Well.

Kylo’s glad for it anyway.

“Did it hurt? Her refusing you?” _The girl_. _The scavenger. The one you wanted to save you_. 

“Yes,” Kylo says. _It hurt like hell_. 

There’s a familiar cruelty in his eyes; it flattens them, darkens the blue to slate. “Good.” 

Hux never minds his own hurts so much if he knows he’s not the only one bleeding.

But Kylo doesn’t begrudge him that, his satisfaction at his suffering, not when the General so often pays the penalty for his flirtations with redemption. He’ll be a long while at it, reminding Hux that he knows he belongs here with him, with the Order, with the darkness. That these moments of temptation don’t mean anything in the grand scheme. That Ben Solo really is dead this time and not even the girl can revive him. That Kylo has made his choice and has chosen Hux and every breathtaking atrocity they can conceive of together. 

It’s true neither of them may ever completely believe it, even if they burn down the galaxy and build it anew in their image, but he can try. He will. He owes Hux that much.

In the meantime, however.

“Let me make it up to you?” He’s pulled Hux’s socks off, is now rubbing both high arches. 

“Hm?” Hux asks. His eyelids are drooping, between the wine and the massage.

“I could eat your ass,” Kylo suggests. Meaning to keep the hope out of his voice, but Hux hears it anyway, of course.

“Mm. Only if you ask nicely.”

Smug bastard. As if working on him like that is some of honor.

It is, in its way—getting the General to let go in any capacity is no minor achievement, and he’s almost certain he’s the only one to ever manage it, let alone so many times. And those eight lieutenants might love Hux enough to defy Kylo, but they’ll never get to see that part of him, that blissed out, unguarded version of Hux that manifests only after he’s come hard enough to forget his own name.

So yes, Kylo wants that, wants Hux squirming under him and cursing into the pillows, wants it enough to play his games even. “Can I _please_ eat your ass, General?” He tries not to sound plaintive. Fails. 

It _has_ been a while. Weeks, really, since this all started.

Hux smiles at him, entirely too self-satisfied already, lips slightly purpled by the wine. “ _May_ I please eat your ass…Grand Marshal,” he corrects.

Kylo lifts his eyebrows slowly. “You want my tongue in you _and_ a promotion, all in one night? Someone’s greedy.” He hooks one hand under Hux’s knee, trying to draw him closer.

“I deserve it.” He obliges him, sliding into his lap, hands loosely clasped around his neck. He leans close to nip at Kylo’s ear and purrs: “Besides, we both know I’ll make it worth your while, _Supreme Leader_.”

He nearly always does, whatever they do, but it’s true fucking Hux after he’s licked him open is something of a unique prize. When he’s a bit boneless and completely un-self-conscious, letting Kylo kiss him with his filthy mouth and wrapping his legs around him like he can’t get him close enough, deep enough. The noises he makes then. The way he pulls Kylo into his arms after, as he almost never does, normally going for the shower by the time they’ve caught their breaths. 

Fond as he is of their usual roughness, he can’t express how much he sometimes craves that particular Hux, who’s strangely tactile, who tangles his fingers in his hair and nuzzles at his throat and murmurs affectionate nonsense without—well, with significantly _less_ —bite or mockery. He’s still Hux, still the General, whispering plans for dominion in his ear, but is also something more. Not _good_ or _kind_ , not good or kind at all, just as Kylo is not good or kind at all, but _open_ , maybe. Real. 

He thinks again, unbidden, of Hux’s laughter earlier. How unaware it had caught him, had caught both of them. Somehow, it’s like that.

“Someone’s eager,” Hux says now, still in his lap. Grinding a little against his growing erection, not-so-subtly demanding his attention. “Good thoughts?” Good as in dirty, Kylo knows he means. Not…the other thing. They’re done talking about that for the moment.

“Mhm,” he agrees. He’ll keep them to himself, these particular wants. Better to earn them than ask, even if it was as easy as asking. Instead of elaborating, he stands, taking Hux with him, hands braced under his thighs. 

The General won’t often let himself be carried—he says he finds it demeaning—but he accepts it this time without protest. Understanding, perhaps, that it’s the beginning of something necessary. 

The air is finally clearer between them, Kylo thinks, as he makes his way to the bedroom, licking his way into Hux’s mouth as he goes, tasting wine and the cigarette he smoked on his way here. There are still pieces to pick up, still half-healed bruises to avoid, still promises to keep. A galaxy to bring to heel. But Kylo can do all that, he knows. And he will.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was going to be a silly fic about Hux's lieutenants giving Kylo the run-around after TLJ.
> 
> But _someone_ had to get their feelings all over it.
> 
> Me. It was me. And possibly Kylo.


End file.
